for the West, which for us is usually found well east of the Bay

and like even maybe

beyond Reno where, after I visited to the Washoe Pub with Bill and Sara, the

NMA for Adeline Kent

and a Ghost Army 

it was onwards, past the Pick and Pull* in Sparks still looking, so yeah maybe the West begins,

as Bruno once said, where the pavement ends, though since he said that the pavement now continues well beyond Gerlach, all the way back into California even, but anyway for me it ends

at mile marker 84 where Highway 447 meets the Smoke Creek Road, down which one turns south to home and where we were delighted to find Sonny had vacuumed the dog hairs off

all the floors, a great if only momentary improvement as dogliness is not known

for its adjacency to cleanliness.

That being the case we nonetheless enjoyed it while it lasted until

three days in the drains clogged. Again. Which made for a fraught night and a Monday mostly

wasted chasing down plumbers [with the added annoyance of Angie’s f-ing list initially connecting us to a “pro” whom we found out, a squandered hour into the morning later, didn’t work up here at all] in between some very distracted, very rudimentary daily watercolors…

On the other hand the situation did afford an opportunity to rediscover the outhouse with its

estimable view of the ’41 Dodge, at least during the mosquito-free daylight hours, before

installing guidance for whoever now drives the UPS truck out at the gate.  It’s been awhile…

but it’s still May.

*For a very minor missing Tundra part, which I thought I’d found but turned out to be, of course, slightly wrong.